


Identitatem

by Anonymous



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Newt, Bukkake, Come Marking, Double Penetration, Gangbang, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Pollen, Spitroasting, Top Original Percival Graves, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 08:31:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10240367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: With Theseus currently gone, a gang of aurors takes advantage of Newt. Graves tries to help the only way he knows how.





	

“Take it.”

Newt stared at the unlabeled bottle, his heart pounding. Its holder, Tom, was getting impatient but the four other aurors in the room were watching him expectantly. 

His journal lay on the desk, but Tom was blocking him from it. That's all he'd come for, and now he felt trapped. He was regretting having come here at all, to Theseus' office, so late at night. He knew, after all, that Theseus' coworkers, his gang of aurors, liked to meet up here after hours and drink. A habit which they continued to this day, even though Theseus was currently in America.

His older brother had joined some temporary international exchange program, so replacing him in the Ministry of Magic was an American import, Percival Graves. The man kept to himself most of the time, didn't talk much but hadn't minded either when Newt explained why he would be dropping in on his office from time to time.

(Because Newt, despite being from an entirely different department in the ministry, was tired of his belongings being pilfered from his desk. As such, he had informally moved into his brother's office to share it with him.)

“Well, love? Come on, take a swig. Your big brother isn't here to scold you for being a bit naughty.” Tom smiled, and cocked his head at an angle that had the light shining on his already bright hair.

Tom was... Nice to Newt, normally, as were all the rest. They were fond of ribbing him in contrast with Theseus' protective behavior. That, he hadn't minded, but they were a touchy bunch, constantly wrapping their arms around his shoulders or squeezing his cheeks as if he were a child. Not to mention their stares got a bit much, sometimes too intense. Being silently intimidating was probably a prerequisite for being an auror.

For that reason he always bowed out from their invitations, but they never stopped trying. So he knew they wouldn't give up now, especially when Theseus wasn't around to tell them to knock it off.

“Don't bother,” Heath said. He took a sip from his own bottle and some drops spilled onto his beard. “He'll always be a little mama's boy, won't he?”

“Ten sickles says he's gonna do it,” John cut in with a laugh. John was tall and lanky, and had a kind face despite his love of dirty jokes. The man turned to Newt, pouting. “Aw, please, little Newt-y, you don't want to make ol' John lose ten sickles now, do you?”

“Um,” he simply said in response and stared at his feet. It was getting late, and he needed to get his journal home so he compile his notes and turn in a report tomorrow morning. But Theseus' friends, despite their best intentions, were crowding around him now and making the room feel small and stuffy. He breathed heavily, but still felt that he wasn't getting enough air.

“Fuck, John, look what you did: he's having a panic attack now 'cause of you.” Oscar spoke from behind him, and hands were kneading at his shoulders, which only made Newt stiffen further. The man was short and stocky, but also known for being deathly quick. His husky voice was loud in Newt's ear. “Shh, baby, you can just say no and we'll understand.”

The last member of their little troupe, a hulking, mostly silent man named George, simply grunted in amusement from his spot near the door.

“Pure, innocent little Newt,” Tom said in a sing-song voice, shaking the bottle with frustration. Newt could've sworn the man's smile had turned sinister for a moment. “It's just alcohol, see? Not gonna make you any less virtuous, in fact it'll make you feel good.”

“What exactly is in it?” He asked, hoping to humor them for now so he could get this over with and leave.

“Something incredible. You'll enjoy it. Trust me, come on. Just a bit of fun.” The man was insistent, and Oscar's hands were now on his shoulders, freezing him in place. All eyes in the room were on him, waiting.

“Fine,” he said, taking the bottle. “Just one taste, but after that I have to head home and finish my report, alright?”

“Of course, love.”

The men snickered as Newt squeezed his eyes shut and brought the drink to his lips. Tipping the bottle, he felt the warm liquid slide down his throat. It felt unusually sweet, not bitter and alcoholic like he was expecting. As he swallowed, however, there was a twisting sensation in his abdomen and Newt grabbed his middle, gasping.

“Oh!” He exclaimed, hunching over. In his surprise he dropped the bottle but it was Heath who reached forward and caught it before it smashed.

“What did I drink?” His breathing turned frantic. He felt a searing heat shooting under his skin toward the end of each limb. Light-headed, Newt staggered (or maybe Oscar pushed him?) and Tom caught him, arms winding around his body. He cradled Newt's head against his shoulder. The magizoologist shuddered, peering behind Tom and seeing the journal on Theseus' desk.

He wanted to reach out and take it but his entire body felt like stone and Tom had him caged in a vice-grip.

“Shh,” whispered Tom. His hand combed Newt's hair back and it felt nice, even though he normally found the gesture uncomfortable.

“What did I drink?” He repeated.

“Just a confiscated fertility potion.”

Newt's eyes widened and he drew back, wriggling out of Tom's embrace.

“What?” His hands flew to his midsection and squeezed. The horror of what was happening slowly dawned on him, but Tom closed the distance between them again, brushing Newt's coat from his shoulders.

“I don't feel good,” he said, his own voice sounding distant. But he has now acutely aware that the five men were standing around him, their own drinks abandoned on the floor.

“Let me kiss you and make you feel better, then.” Upon tipping up Newt's chin with his fingers, Tom moved toward him, lips pressing softly against his. Newt opened his mouth to protest but instead Tom used it as an opportunity to slide his tongue in, letting it tangle against Newt's own.

He didn't want this, mind screaming to get away. But his body was otherwise stiff and the heat flared up in him. Newt heard a moan and realized it came from his mouth as Tom became more insistent, pressing his tongue deeper. 

The other male swallowed his cries as a violent shudder wracked through him. His vision turned blurry and he bucked, trousers feeling damp as a stain spread on the cloth's surface. Tom pulled away and laughed.

“Oh, fuck, he came from just a kiss! Was that the potion or am I just that good?” The resounding laughter from the other four made Newt redden with shame. He backed away, trying to escape. But thick arms wound around his waist and he felt Oscar mouthing at his neck.

“What are you doing?!”

The men closed in on him, and Newt could only shake as their previously gentle touches turned rough. The faces became blurry as he was pushed to the floor, pants and underwear pulled off. Laying down on his back Newt blinked and stared up in horror at Oscar's now leering face. He had pinned Newt's wrists above his head while Tom kneeled at the opposite end, gripping his knees.

“You're supposed to be Theseus' friends,” Newt protested. Tears were already forming at the corners of his eyes at the realization of their betrayal. “Theseus trusted you!”

“Theseus isn't here now, is he?” All humor was gone from Tom's face as he hovered over Newt, parting the buttons of his shirt one by one. “And even if he were, I don't think he'd be surprised by this outcome. He's a nice bloke. Except whenever he blabs about is how good his little brother is. A bit annoying, really, having to hear about how perfect and pretty and untouched you are.” There were murmurs of agreement and Newt's breath caught in his throat as Tom leaned down, their noses almost touching. “When you constantly hear about how delicious a meal is, well, wouldn't you want a taste?”

Newt felt his thighs being spread apart, and fingers nudging at his opening. He jumped, but Tom was pressing down on him. He felt teeth latch onto his nipple the same time as the fingers pressed deeper into him. 

“Stop!” Newt cried out despite himself, an orgasm ripped through him again. He felt his come splash against his hip. There was too much going on, two fingers turning into three as they painfully explored his body, while Tom suckled at his chest. But the potion was doing its work, morphing Newt's pain into pleasure against his will and he moaned.

“'Stop,' he says, yet he's aching for it.” It sounded like Heath, and they all laughed again. Tom got off him and Newt craned his neck, recognizing George's short cropped hair between his legs. His impossibly thick fingers were the ones splitting Newt apart and his face scrunched up in pain, crying silently.

They all watched as George continued to finger him until Newt came once more, a high-pitched squeal escaping him as his body was flooded with pinpricks of pleasure. The man moved away and Tom looked around at the smirking faces that matched his own.

“So, who goes first?”

Newt had gone numb. He was too stunned to move, even as he felt Heath's weight on top of him. He turned his head to the side and closed his eyes. The man's beard was scratchy against his cheek. Insistent hands were nudging his legs apart again. He felt the blunt tip of Heath's member beginning its assault and could only sob.

“Please!”

“My dick's not even in him yet and he's already beggin',” Heath said, licking up Newt's neck as he started to fuck him. It hurt, his body torn between agony and euphoria. The potion had made Newt over-sensitive and thus even Heath's tongue at his neck had the spot tingling. He thrust into Newt, sheathing himself fully in one stroke. Newt yelped as fluid spurted from his cock, splashing onto Heath's shirt. But the auror ignored this in his attempt to develop a rhythm, his length scraping along Newt's insides in a way that had him arching his back and moaning.

“Louder than every whore I've fucked,” Heath muttered. “Maybe 'Seus was lying about him.” He was being brutalized and the men were laughing, faces above him completely devoid of sympathy. Newt thought of his brother, crying freely as he accepted that Theseus wasn't going to swoop in and rescue him. He was at their mercy, humiliated at the forceful transfiguration of his pain into pleasure.

“Hey Scamander,” Tom taunted. “You know what a fertility potion does, right? Just so you know, by the end of the night you're gonna have a bun in that shiny new oven the potion made. I, for one, personally hope it's mine.”

“That's right,” Heath said, seeing the shock in Newt's eyes. He placed a hand on Newt's abdomen as his thrusts grew more violent. Someone was helping him, hauling Newt's thighs apart until they ached from the stretch. “We're gonna put a baby in that tight belly of yours.”

“Don't,” he cried out. “Please, I don't want to be pregnant!”

“Like hell, we've seen how you mother those gross beasts of yours.”

Heath spurted into him, and he wriggled at the sensation of liquid coating his inner walls. The bearded man withdrew callously and it stung, the dick sliding out of Newt as fast as it had entered. Some of the seed was already leaking out, dripping down his ass. Heath got to his feet and dusted off his hands. “Whoopsie daisy, did I do that?” he said, with a shrug and a grin.

Newt hissed in pain as he was flipped over, someone immediately there to take Heath's place. It was John, manhandling him onto his hands and knees. “Come on, up you get, gorgeous little slut. Can't just lie there and take it, unfair to make me do all the work...”

John squeezed his backside and got into position behind him. “Ten sickles says the baby's mine.” With one smooth push his cock slid into Newt. Being in that position meant John could reach a spot that Heath hadn't. Newt crumpled, sinking to his elbows as he groaned. His face pressed into his sleeve, tears soaking the cloth.

“Bollocks, you couldn't even make him come. Look, he's falling asleep,” someone said with a snigger.

“Trust me,” John said without missing a beat. He tightened his grip around Newt's waist and continued speaking as his cock relentlessly drilled into Newt. “Call it intuition, but his kid's gonna end up big and tall thanks to me. You're in for a tough labor, babe, but it'll be worth it seeing you try to explain to Theseus why his chaste little brother slutted up and went and got knocked up while he was gone.”

Newt let out a scream, though it was muffled by his arm. The thought of carrying one of these men's children had him wanting to curl up and die of shame. But the potion hardly let him think, only feel, and soon there were hands on his face, stroking, and even that felt erotic. He was hauled onto his palms again by Oscar. The man looked into his eyes, stroking his jaw almost tenderly.

“You look like you needed a little help.”

He had said it to John, not Newt, as he was already freeing his erect length from his trousers and guiding it into Newt's mouth.

“Jackpot,” he exclaimed, even as the male choked and sputtered. His eyes closed in relief and his motions synchronized with John's. “Always dreamed of this, gagging your pretty lips with my dick.” They fucked Newt from both ends, until John groaned and with one final thrust, emptied himself into Newt. His fluids mixed with the previous male's and Newt whimpered around Oscar's length. The other man had reached his limit as well and the amount of semen that filled Newt's mouth caused him to gag. The salty taste was overpowering and he spat, scant amounts dribbling down his chin. 

Oscar had leaned down and was brushing at his face with his hands, spreading the mixture of come and tears on Newt's cheeks. “Beautiful,” he said, sitting back to admire his handiwork. Newt coughed, his throat burning from the bile threatening to rise up.

John, however, wasn't done. He fisted Newt's aching cock. “Don't!” The redhead said instinctively. His plea came out hoarse and went unnoticed. After a few tugs he was coming again, losing all the strength in his knees. His torso went limp in John's grip and the man quietly wiped come-soaked fingers on Newt's hip, marking him with his own seed.

John lifted him, passing him over to Tom who was now seated on the floor. He took the feebly squirming male into his lap. Exhausted, Newt did not fight to get away as his back leaned against Tom's chest, the blond effortlessly positioning him over his cock and then pushing him onto it.

Newt's sounds had grown meek, soft gasps leaving him as he was bounced on Tom's lap, the large organ sliding in and out of him with a squelching noise. Everyone else had grown quiet, witnessing Newt's embarrassing display. And he refused to face them all, determined not to look up at the four pairs of eyes lustfully awaiting another turn. But he couldn't stop his needy sounds, or the flush that was spreading down his face and chest. 

“Gotta admit,” Tom said, without pause. “Our Scamander here is gonna make a fantastic mother. You're gonna look so hot when your belly gets all big, bulging with the fruit of our labor.”

“Stop it,” Newt gasped. “I don't want a baby.”

“You're getting a little Tom Junior whether you like it or not, love.”

A miserable whine was all he could manage in response. George had stepped forward, finally ready to speak, among other things. His belt was already in his hands and pants unzipped.

“He still nice and tight?” The muscular auror asked.

“Why don't you come on over here and join me to find out?”

“What? No, no, no, no!” Newt squirmed uselessly in Tom's grip, the man slamming hard into him in punishment.

“Never thought you'd be such a mouthy bitch,” he said as Newt threw his head back and wailed. White ropes burst from his cock and spattered all over George, who was irked at being the recipient of another forced orgasm.

“Shut up and take it, slut,” the man said. Newt shook, eyes widening in terror. Like the rest of him, his cock was massive and veiny. His hands joined Tom's in keeping him still and a new pressure was forced against his hole, already occupied by one cock. He shook his head frantically but George was persistent and cruel, trying to shove his way inside him and not caring whether it tore him up in the process.

With a scream Newt took both cocks at once, pain flaring up in his ass. Even the potion's attempts to dull it were lacking, but it produced pleasant jolts to counter it. Newt was coming again, completely wrecked as his body heaved along with his sobs.

Both men sandwiched him, their contrasting movements causing a pulsing sensation there. Tom's motions were smooth and he nuzzled his face into Newt's hair in a faux attempt at intimacy. But George was rough, cock stretching him to his limit. His calloused hands squeezed bruises into Newt's hips and he did the same with his teeth on the redhead's neck.

Another leaking cock was shoved against his lips. With no fight left in him Newt closed his eyes and opened his mouth. The organ went in smoothly and brushed against its tongue with every motion. He made a desperate sound. Whether it was a final cry or help or a resignation to his fate he wasn't sure, but it seemed the rest interpreted it as the latter because his wrists were grabbed and lifted, cocks pressed into each hand. He squeezed both, stroking them, and opened his mouth wider to give the person he was blowing more access.

The potion might have finally reached his mind, because it was now blank and empty and he felt wonderfully full, so unusually right to be fucked in every hole like this.

Not before long they came in succession. The cock in his mouth withdrew and come spattered all over Newt's face. The ones in his hands followed suit, his hair soon drenched in white, as well as his chest and back. 

Tom and George both filled him up at the same time, jets of semen filling his passageways to the brink. As they lifted him off, globs poured out and continued doing so even as Newt was unceremoniously tossed onto his side.

He curled in on himself, drenched and loose. His arms curled protectively around his abdomen even as his body twitched from over-stimulation. Dread was seeping in now. He'd been stuck with so much come that it was impossible he wouldn't get pregnant from this. A fresh wave of tears was making its way down his face as the men surveyed him with amusement.

“How many times do you think we gotta fuck him 'til he offers himself up as our sex slave?”

The door slammed open.

Newt raised his head, despite the flash of pain with every movement. Percival Graves was standing in the doorway. He had taken one look at Newt, then at the aurors, and with a wave of his hand the latter were frozen.

Graves strode forward, wand now in grip.

“Avada,” he started to say, but Newt cut him off.

“Don't!” Graves spun around and gave him an incredulous look.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Don't kill them,” he begged. His hand was still on his belly. “One of them's the f-father.”

The auror looked at him for a long time, gaze unreadable, before he sighed and his wand lowered a fraction.

“How about I obliviate them first? And then we'll sort this out.”

Newt nodded and winced from doing so, as Graves did his work. He was still, much to his dismay, aching and hard, which meant the potion was still very much in effect.

Soon, Graves was kneeling in front of him. His voice was soft and more tender than Newt had remembered.

“Hospital? Or would you prefer somewhere private?”

“Private.”

“Alright. Don't move.”

Graves scooped him up into his arms and Newt made a pained noise. He felt bad in his current state, but worse for Graves, whose clothes were now covered in the same mess. Graves' hand brushed against his backside by accident and Newt couldn't help himself. He shuddered, letting out a whine as he came. In his embarrassment he buried his face into Graves' coat.

“I'm sorry,” he sobbed, but the man did not respond and simply apparated them away.

Newt found himself in Graves' apartment, being gingerly placed down on his bed. Of all emotions to feel, it was guilt that overpowered everything else. He was soiling Graves' bed. He didn't deserve to be treated like this, especially now that he was filthy and tainted.

“I'm disgusting,” he said, staring at his stained chest and legs. Graves conjured a wet cloth and Newt allowed him to wipe away the crusted streaks all over his skin.

“Is there any other way I can help?” Graves asked. They were both pointedly ignoring Newt's still flagging erection. “Would you like to talk about it or would you prefer to be left alone?”

“Fertility potion.”

“Ah.”

“One of them got me p-pregnant. Most likely.” After wiping Newt's legs clean Graves summoned a blanket to wrap around the trembling male. “And after all that, I still can't get rid of the feeling of wanting to be filled. I'm awful.”

Graves sat down at the edge of the bed, a safe distance away. Newt knew the man was trying not to scare him, but his heart sank further at the thought that Graves had found him like this and would probably be too disgusted to ever touch him again.

“Look,” Graves said gently. “You need help. And if you won't mind, I could provide for you in whatever way I can. I could help you by possibly giving you a child we could both share. Only if you wanted, of course.”

“What are you saying?”

“The potion is still in effect. That, we know of. I'll help you ride it out. And in doing so, at least the future child you will birth is going to have at least one prospective father who's not scum of the earth.”

Newt stared at him, not sure whether to believe what he was hearing. But Graves was wearing an expression he'd never seen before, a hint of a smile on his lips, his dark eyes honest.

“I was hoping one day, to ask you out for lunch. And then court you, and eventually marry you and start a family. I don't mind changing the order of that list.”

Newt, whose chest had felt like a hole of despair just earlier, was brimming with warmth.

“We could try making a child together. There's still a chance. The child could be mine, ours.”

“And if the baby that comes out isn't yours?”

“Then it's still ours,” Graves replied. He was reaching for Newt, his palm hovering inches away. It was a tentative gesture, and Newt made his decision and leaned against Graves' waiting hand, nuzzling his cheek against it. He hummed appreciatively as the fingers brushed the hair out of his forehead.

Graves stood up, already moving to rid himself of his waistcoat. Shyly, there was nothing much Newt could do other than remove his blanket and expose himself. Which was nothing Graves hadn't seen, and if the man was disgusted by Newt's condition he didn't show it.

Instead, he moved slowly on top of Newt and kissed him. It was, for once, a kiss Newt wanted, and he responded enthusiastically, moaning as he wound his arms around Graves' neck and pulled him closer.

Graves said nothing about Newt being loose, or about him sounding like a whore by moaning the moment a cock slid into his waiting body. Instead he whispered into Newt's ear, in a husky tone that made him shiver. “You feel so good. You're perfect, just perfect,” and it made him come so hard he saw stars. 

The older man moved at a languid pace, thrusting into Newt in smooth movements. So much so that Newt had to beg him to go faster and not treat him like glass.

“Get me pregnant,” he said, arching his back as Graves quickened his pace. “I need it so badly.” Most of the revulsion he had felt was fading away, replaced by an overwhelming desire to be bred. He prayed that he would bear Graves' child, begging for more and more as the auror emptied his seed into him. There was a pleasant sensation in his belly when it happened, and he touched it. Graves followed suit, laying a hand on top of his.

Newt asked to be obliviated, at least of his memories regarding the other aurors. After which, he then gave Graves free reign to do what he wanted with them, as long as he never found out and never regained those memories.

The potion lasted a day, so they didn't leave the apartment for the same amount of time.

Graves took Newt out to lunch when its effect was well and truly gone. He proposed during the meal.

They married almost immediately after, an intimate one with just the two of them and the judge. Newt simply informed his family by letter, to avoid giving Theseus a nasty shock when he returned. Whereas Graves crafted a letter informing MACUSA that he was staying at Britain permanently, but never got around to sending it. It's not as if they were looking for him, anyway.

Of course, Theseus still received that nasty shock after all. Months later, he'd wanted to surprise Newt (ironically) but apparated into his office to find Graves fucking a heavily pregnant Newt on his desk.

Theseus had known about the marriage, but not about the pregnancy, so he punched Graves twice and hexed him thrice and swore at him for good measure After a long talk, in which Newt's face had matched the hue of a tomato throughout its entire duration, Theseus had become more reasonable.

Graves and Newt got their own office. The baby was born with red hair and green eyes and freckles, a spitting image of Newt that had Graves sighing in relief. He had found an Identity spell that could reveal the baby's true parentage, so long as he had copies of the potential fathers' DNA. The jars of hairs remained in the closet and he often wondered when would be the right time to finally cast the spell.

The aurors, Graves got rid of them one by one, with incidents spaced far enough apart so as to not create a suspicious pattern. He made sure they became known as criminals and traitors right before they died. More importantly, he made sure they suffered agonizingly long and painful deaths. Theseus had grown weary and isolated as a result, often asking Graves if he was Theseus' only true friend after all. That they all turned out badly had changed him. He joked less, but was glad that Newt, at least, was happier than ever.

For each untoward auror incident, Newt would be surprised, exclaiming “But he was only ever nice to me! I can't believe he would do such a thing. Theseus must be devastated,” and then wipe tears from his eyes.

When the final auror was eliminated, Mary was five years old and still the spitting image of her mother. Graves loved coming home after work and seeing her run to him as soon as he walked through the door, small arms outstretched and face joyful.

He would sweep her up into his arms and kiss her on the forehead. Newt would be sitting by the window, turning his attention away from his notes for once to smile at them.

Graves loved his daughter.

Their daughter.

He never used the Identity spell, and instead threw the jars away.


End file.
